


we were swallowing panic

by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adult Breastfeeding, Anidala Parallels, Breastfeeding, Breeding Kink, Choking, Conflicted Kylo, Dark fic, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Lactation Kink, Nursing Kink, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Rey is a First Order Prisoner and Snoke is a manipulative fuck, Smut, Snoke Broadcasts a Galaxy-Wide Sex Tape of them Conceiving a Baby and that's Just The Start, Starring Very Complicit Kylo Ren, Unplanned Pregnancy, adult nursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/SecretReyloTrash
Summary: The last time his eyes met her belly, it had been flat, and muscular, and tensing with the strain of seeking her own pleasure.He had never seen the place that held the child as it was now, seen it growing. He had dreams about pressing his ear there, his hands, his lips. And Rey touching his hair, cradling him alongside the baby. He had seen a scan of a wrinkled form but he hadn’t known what to look for, what he was supposed to see in the ultrasound. It was a small lump, another further shadowed. A head, maybe a hip beside? But the black image displayed through ultrasound pulses inside her was an abstract thing. Her growing belly was not. Her new curves.The oppressive, musky smell of her milk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [animal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/animal/gifts).



> For content warnings: anything between Kylo and Rey is consensual, if manipulatively orchestrated by Snoke. This deals heavily with Kylo's abused psychology mirroring Anakin's that if he behaves correctly, Snoke will give him what he wants. This obviously is not true, so every step he takes closer to Rey has dire consequences, like an unplanned pregnancy resulting in her first time with Kylo. There is also some textual unreliable narration based on grooming Snoke would have given Kylo about femininity; his respect for Rey is the challenge to that, and chapter two will deal with him completely abandoning that mindset where he has been taught that women are for sex and babies (he wants Rey as an apprentice so he doesn't as much believe this as he tolerates Snoke telling him this repeatedly). This is a darkfic, there is an unplanned pregnancy, some unsavory misogynistic language about women spoken from the most incorrect character in the trilogy, and some dark twists to the consensual sex between two powerless people, but I'm shockingly leaning towards the happy ending for this one. 
> 
> Also, hope you like lactation kinks. Because. Uh. Wow.

He went to her, after many months of absence, the night her milk first came. 

It was one of the most instinctual senses the Force had ever given him. Fluid of milk, of blood, even the spend of himself that had filled her months ago all blending into some life-giving flow. He woke in the middle of the night and he could just  _ taste _ her milk on his tongue, feel it in his bloodstream, know it was his seed; meant for the baby they had made, sensing it was now here, dripping from her breast. 

In a trance, he ignored his strict orders. He got out of bed with the express intention to disobey them.

It was  _ there, _ somehow so strong it pulled him out of his rooms, just the feel of it sopping from the nipple into the fabric of her clothing. A spill; a waste and a shame. Her mind was still sleeping, she didn’t even know what her body had fully created yet. 

It was enough to draw him back to her.

He couldn’t stay away anymore, bypassing the guards of her chamber with a simple mind trick. He could smell her, from his quarters. He could feel her, heavy and full, not even knowing the possibility of her body. 

This stranger, this unfamiliar, this unknown. With his child growing inside her. Falling down the path of the choices they both made, at this point being dragged down it really with a lead weight around their necks, now that they found the choices made them less in control of their destiny. Destinies; joined and unjoined, whatever the Supreme Leader’s plan for them was. 

The only thing Kylo Ren knew was that  _ this _ was his plan; for Snoke had encouraged the fledgling relationship between them and his apprentice went forward, unbidden, until Rey’s belly cradled his child and a First Order prison cell held her in safe keeping. She called it a cell. It was a modest apartment just off of his quarters, inaccessible to him personally without getting through a series of guards. So  _ close, _ an allowance by the Supreme Leader. Not even Rey knew he was always that near to her, if need be. If Kylo couldn’t see her as he so wanted, he could sense her when he needed to. Snoke would give him permission to return any day now. She was healthy. She’d be missing him eventually. 

Since the night the baby had been made of their bodies, the scavenger had shut him out. Loathed him. Did not invite his communication into her rooms. 

Kylo Ren hadn’t seen the prisoner in some time, but not just because of her anger.  

_ Prisoner. _ She was still Resistance-loyal, if taking his cock willingly, when she had wanted it. 

It was easier, if he used the same words his master did. If he was only Kylo Ren. If she was just a traitor and a criminal. And if he merely followed orders about what to do with her. 

_ Prove she can be seduced. _

_ Ben _ not seeing  _ Rey _ for months now: that was harder for him to think about. 

Not since those weeks after her capture by the First Order.  _ She was here to help him,  _ she’d earnestly whispered in his ear. Kept her open eyes on his. Searching his soul for the hope that fluttered against hers. 

He had ignored the sentiment at the time, though she’d endured plenty of misery since then to try and prove her intentions true. 

Snoke knew about everything between them; the whispers, the accepting looks, and the food Kylo snuck to feed her skinny body as he touched her through the bars of her prison, his hands in her hair. At that point, she  _ was _ in a true cell. It was foolish of Ren to assume he could keep even the most valuable of secrets. He visited as much as he was able and accidentally let his temper flare so it was never a  _ secret _ to anyone he cared for the prisoner. He could be as mean as he liked in front of other’s eyes; no one missed that he still dedicated much of his schedule to clambering through security to stand outside a jail cell and  _ intimidate _ her. She didn’t make it easy, which was most surprising to him that he still cared anymore with her prompt rejections, the anger she expressed towards him for aiding in her imprisonment. He cared anyway, in his way, surveying from a careful distance, not letting her feel alone. 

She had more company in her prison cell than she did on Jakku; it’s own prison, in many ways. 

She softened, loneliness will do that, which was what had softened him to her and her kind eyes, or so he kept telling himself as he felt himself reach for her through the bars.

Snoke knew about the visits. And he planned. The Supreme Leader was wise. He’d given a liberal amount of access to the prisoner for his young apprentice, strengthened their tentative attempts to connect until her feelings were as uncontrolled as his. Maybe more so, when she let Kylo touch her.  It was an exchange, but not in the way it looked from the outside, even to Snoke. She wasn’t spreading her legs for a promise of more food. Kylo spent weeks focusing on her care; giving her food and giving her attention and communicating with her prison doctors in how not to keep her merely alive but to keep her at her peak. That he gave her freely, with no leveraging promises. She did not fuck him for a scrap of bread, Rey was always too good for that. Rey allowed him in because of his final, whispered confession that he did not know how to protect her and he felt it ache in his soul that Snoke had more power than he did. As long as he stopped pretending he had some secret power over her. As long as they were trapped in this as equals. Splintered from the same core. Then, she let him touch her.

He lived in terror that it was merely pity.

Shyly at first, gloved fingers shoved clumsily between her legs in exchange for just a peek at the softness of his heart. Kisses between bars. Tracing features and staring at each other and slumping against the wall between them; frantic, too scary to speak of out loud. Sick, desperate pleasure that made his stomach churn at night, thinking of her as he lay awake with his own belly wet with the cum he was too lost to even mop up. Her begging between kisses to get her out so they could run away together. She wanted him to come with her.

He didn’t know how to answer that, how to escape. So he touched her shyly so she could forget for a minute. 

Then when that proved to overwhelm her, with the slow, deliberate, squirming, red-faced intensity of the virgins they were.

Weren’t anymore. 

She had given that to him willingly. At least as willingly as he had given her his. 

Snoke made a surprising ruling; the scavenger could be kept by Kylo Ren as a sort of pet. She allowed the role to be cast on herself, Kylo insistently pushing that there were advantages to pretending he could ever see her that way. But she said yes because he opened his mind and she saw that deep down he couldn’t.  _ Wouldn’t _ see her that way. Ever. He was disgusted inside that  _ this _ was their option, but he had grit his teeth and worked his way up from plenty of bad options. She had too.

It was something they could work with, their unspoken alliance. A pet could be moved around in ways a prisoner could not. Kept close. Maybe, if she showed the potential she so clearly had in his eyes, she would rise as an apprentice to him, someday. 

It was not as simple or as advantageous as they had thought;

Dragged out into what surmounted as a pen and allowed to be held, not knowing the level of privacy she was being granted. It was not his rooms in which they were allowed this conjugal visit, as they had expected. But she walked to him in the middle of the foreign room anyway, not even a bed, the degradation of the act clearly displayed that their only option was to rut on the floor. 

“This seems like the way we’re being asked to destroy ourselves,” she looked up at him dryly, and that led to their first kiss without bars holding him back. There was a weaving quality to his movements, like he was still expecting them to.

He questioned the same as he pulled her clothes aside. At this point, he felt as imprisoned as she did if this was the  _ only way _ he could have what he wanted. So compromised. The longing gutting him that he’d take her anyway she could get, if she just said yes. She did, and it was worth the terms to just be able to hold her outside of a cell. They were hungry and broken; knitting fractured edges together with the brush of lips and teeth. 

“Set us free, Rey,” he pleaded against the curve of her breast. She cradled him there, hushed him, stroked his hair. 

“I’ll try,” she whispered. “But you have to help me.”

He felt it at the time. His Master’s sinister presence encroaching in his mind. But it was Rey. He would give himself to Rey.

Something in him was relieved that Snoke was controlling this. It was the bargaining stage of the fatal blow. He withdrew his agency easily, with one allowance to squirm between Rey’s open legs. Maybe Snoke was right. Maybe he felt too much. Maybe this would be a part of a routine, something he could train himself into conquering his feelings with limited access to the scavenger. He would not be so ruled by his emotions for her in smaller, controlled doses. A phase of weaning. Maybe this was Snoke’s plan.

Not without its motives. Not without its internal reluctances. And not without Snoke knowing, ordering it from Kylo with a perverse glee, to deflower her roughly and make her give in to the influences of the Sith. A pair of girlish eyes and their fluttering lashes, described by his master as a weak femininity, had nearly broken his soul in two. That he’d have traded it away for her, at one point. Snoke pressed him on his right to claim the lush, pink fertility of her womb and how Kylo must lay seed there, to prove he had beaten his sentiments aside. 

It all sounded incredibly unpleasant that way. 

That was how, when it was over, Supreme Leader Snoke had told Kylo Ren the First Order’s perspective of what he had done. That he had bred his scavenger. Fucked her full of cum over and over until it was spilling out of her. Valiantly conquering her womb with the might of the First Order.

Kylo had been inside her, known in some depth of himself it was not true. Fucking Rey was  _ feminine, _ but it was not pink and girlish. Fucking Rey was not taking her over; her soul and her body and her mind. Fucking Rey was  _ red, _ and arduous, and muscle and sheer powerful will. Her muscular thighs and strong hands. He’d not lain himself down as her conqueror. If anyone won that battle, it was her, her clenching on him and riding and fucking like a queen on her throne. Talking in his ear through it all that she was with him,  _ Ben I am with you, _ and it was a shock of clarity through him when he knew then what Snoke had done. It was all he could do not to start sobbing on the floor when he realized with dread that it wasn’t just  _ eyes _ on them in this room, it was holovid cameras, and likely the whole galaxy was watching him fuck new life into the last hope of the Resistance. The Last Jedi. 

He had just wanted her. And he had maybe just ruined her life.

But it was sentiment. It was sensitive and emotional and he couldn’t breathe when he first ran his nose along the scent of her hair. She gave, she wasn’t taking, it was with divine generosity she gave herself. Rey was not afraid. Not like he was. He left some of himself inside of her, it was not just his cum flowing inside her vice-tight cunt, it was a fragment of his soul that he prayed she’d hold for safekeeping. She was strong, and he was everything Snoke had told him was weak. He had failed her, himself, and his master. 

She had been the only one brave enough to keep this encounter lasting  _ hours. _ Her enthusiasm. Her lust. Her tongue bathing his aching cock and her eyes on his eyes and the cum she took down her throat and inside her and sprayed, Snoke thought wastefully, across her breasts and belly. There would always be something inside him that would give that to her. Even when he was ready to sleep. Even when just once was enough to sate him, to make him feel more connected to her than he had ever been. 

No propaganda could easily hide that he was her bitch, needy for her touch, not the other way around. Maybe that was Snoke’s first mistake. 

And to Kylo’s greatest humiliation, his master was waiting on the other side of the wall, and once the final flow of his cum inside Rey had settled against her cervix, a pull of the force dragged his naked body across the floor to interrupt the post-coital calm. Pulling him out of her before he was ready. Making her start with fear and close her naked legs, for the first time she looked afraid, when not even Kylo could be kept close to her. His wide eyes stayed on her as a yank from the mind of Supreme Leader Snoke dragged him out of the room limp as a doll, humiliating him, and the motivations behind this meeting were beyond anything the two of them expected. It wasn’t even a reward for their compliance. It was planned, to be allowed to see her then, when she was ovulating, when her closely-monitored body was ready. The first and only time, for either of them, was a part of a political game. And they both lost. 

The Supreme Leader did not let Kylo Ren see his scavenger  _ pet _ again because her womb had taken his seed and the Resistance knew she was growing ripe with the baby that was made of two of the most powerful force-sensitive beings in the galaxy. And would be raised on the side of the Sith. There was vague talk of her being given back to Kylo Ren after the birth, to apprentice or even just fuck as his courtesan if he wished, that was waved in his face in the context of obedience to the First Order first and foremost. Snoke chastised Kylo Ren for ill-informed expectations, his disappointment and humiliation, that he had gone soft if he thought this conjugal visit was anything beyond destroying her and colonizing her womb. After the announcement, Galaxy-Wide, of her pregnancy, Rey shut her mind, a near-constant presence to him in the weeks she had been on his base, and did not reopen it to allow him any sense of closeness. 

It was clearly worse, in her mind, that she  _ had _ consented. She had to consent, to want it, for the holovid to be such a blow to the Resistance. Rey’s willing fuck with Kylo Ren. The  _ hours _ of it. Her body accepting him. Her lips eager and pleading as they brushed along his skin. 

Kylo Ren was not even allowed a moment to speak of her pregnancy with her. 

The Supreme Leader, responsible for their bond, now kept them apart for his own good, now that everything was in place. Once the essential connection was made, Ren barely got to see a glimpse of the girl. He trusted…

He  _ believed _ his master. 

It hurt too much to start doubting now, so he pressed on with his stubborn faith. Snoke knew what he was doing. He could believe  _ that _ implicitly. And it was true he was too emotional around Rey; he didn’t like that she used her emotions so skillfully and he was anything but skilled in the way he felt for her. 

He listened to the words of his master, repeated them until they stopped hurting. Sentiment. The first cunt he’d fucked. The reek of femininity. These were words borrowed by Kylo from the people around him. Like Hux. Like Snoke. There was no alternate path outside being like them. If they didn’t respect him, he wouldn’t get a thing out of them. And he wanted her back. He wanted his apprentice. 

And if he dared, he wanted to hold that baby and her and feel what he felt in the moment, privately, where only Rey would see. And he was ashamed of that. He was ashamed of the guilt and the worry and the disgust he felt of his own sexual nature, the mindlessness of it, the way Rey could just flip him on his back and ride him and look at him like they were both doing something to each other. He hadn’t wanted to have sex with her when he pictured sex as what he was trained to think it was. Not by his parents, but the First Order attitude of fucking someone for  _ power _ or to simply take theirs away. He didn’t want to do that to Rey. But she wanted him. And she showed him-

_ -Rode him and kissed him and shoved his hand to her clit to guide him to make it so good- _

The memory was too sharp, too cutting, too all-encompassing, he had to close his eyes and meditate when the thought of her body entered his mind. What would happen when he genuinely feared for her, these feelings that overwhelmed...

It was better this way, to be apart for his control of his emotions, of the familial turn his grandfather had made and his sentiments making him weak for a galactic senator. Snoke made him fully aware of the story. She betrayed him for his master and friend because he was too emotional, once. It was where he learned that sentiment had made him weak. With the future Ben Solo’s own wretched namesake. What a mockery of his grandfather that name had been. 

It was better for him to not repeat that. That he made himself scarce. As though Snoke had made preparations for him staving off that panic, near-hourly medical updates were given to him on her progress. It didn’t  _ comfort _ him, but it certainly made his fears about Rey’s pregnancy seem like no one was going to entertain any paranoia on his part. Silenced. A castrated father already. He felt alone in these feelings, and pressed them down with a lump in his throat. 

He was sent the Scavenger’s medical records, all healthy check-ups throughout the length of her term. She was moved out of a cell and given a private room, he had toured, prepared, and inspected it before she was moved into it. He was given occasional access to the security footage taken at two points in the room -though she’d been clever enough to find and avoid those points when she was inside. Every time she met with a doctor he was notified. He could read about her, her progress, the abnormalities of a life of bare survival she had to overcome, now that his child was growing inside her. That had been enough, when he was following orders.

But he now felt that milk, and the body he had given himself to was too hard to stay away from. Even if it proved he could not control himself. Even if it meant, to his master, he failed. He went to her that night without a second thought. 

Rey startled awake at the slide of the door, wet spots dotting the curves of her breasts. Her stomach extended obscenely beneath them, and that was what caught his eye first.

The last time his eyes met her belly, it had been flat, and muscular, and tensing with the strain of seeking her own pleasure. He had never seen the place that held the child as it was now, seen it growing. He had dreams about pressing his ear there, his hands, his lips. And Rey touching his hair, cradling him alongside the baby. He had seen a scan of a wrinkled form but he hadn’t known what to look for, what he was supposed to see in the ultrasound. It was a small lump, another further shadowed. A head, maybe a hip beside? But the black image displayed through ultrasound pulses inside her was an abstract thing. Her growing belly was not. Her new curves. The oppressive, musky smell of her milk. 

“I sensed,” but he immediately lost purpose in his words. He didn’t know how to properly explain. Just the call of her milk and the want to taste her before he even knew what that meant. Snoke oversaw their consummation, before then their few encounters in her cell until she became pregnant. Many people had, as Snoke thought this would be a display of might for the First Order. A Resistance Jedi used as a broodmare for merely a Sith Apprentice.

Kylo did not watch the holovid of them that had been seen by billions. He did not care to know how it was used against her. He remembered the moments it displayed personally instead of voyeuristically, and he wondered if it anyone would see it the way he did at all. As stroking her hair, kissing the tears out of her eyes over the stretch of him pushed inside her all the way, and telling her it was all for this, to be his, as she had vowed to be. She shook violently against him and was so wet and yielding from his nervous kisses, but she shuddered like she even knew then that every way she expressed how it was  _ good _ was a betrayal to her friends. 

He had agreed to it because it gave him  _ her; _ but the moment his seed took root in her womb she was taken away; he was denied the apprentice he was promised. He was denied access to her. And even though she hated him, he seemed to know better that it was to punish him too. His caring for her, however misguided, could have been a comfort on base.

“Your body. It’s changing.”

Rey pulled her knees to her chest. Her anger was clear on her face. He imagined her days were lonely, if he felt his were, she must ache twice as hard. He had hoped that would break his fall into her rage. 

For a while before the baby, there was a second life, a secret life, between them. Where her mind brought her places, mostly places by his side. Their connection, even from the cell, brought her to his bed, to his offices, even once, behind him in his ship, navigating a galaxy together. This time went by too quickly, about the lifespan of her half-cycle. The closest thing to a courtship, begun with the touching of hands, intentions made clear by her arrival on The Supremacy, and finished with her pregnancy. Finished, to Snoke, meant settled or handled, but Kylo was having his fears that things were finished for good.

It was fleeting happiness, watching her watch the stars, pretending she wasn’t in a cell. Having her curl up in his bed against his body and know the minute she truly fell asleep beside him, she would jolt awake from the cold of her cell. Touching her, trying to bring her pleasure with his little experience, and having her stomach growl pitifully so he would just give up and stalk over to the prison, throwing ration packets to her through the bars, berating the guards for not fulfilling their duties. 

It was hardly a life, what he had given his prisoner. Rarely allowed out and if so closely surrounded by guards. Her only contact with Kylo Ren, since the last time he had been inside her and him purring encouragement to take his cum with his lips against her neck as he seemed to quake above her with fear, had been him signing off on the occasional doctor’s notes. Increased diet regimens to keep her healthy. Approval for her to have access to a gymnasium, alone, closely guarded, to keep her from going insane. Little notes, negotiations, compromises. It was clear that was all he had the power or care to give her. 

The distance from the moment of intimacy, with her growing belly, has done nothing to sweeten these memories. When he came to her the first time, Snoke trailed close behind, dragged him out once the cum inside her filled her womb with a current of the force that had Kylo yelp as he was pulled from her. It felt less and less like Kylo was coming to her, more like Kylo was being walked on his leash to breed with her. Her pregnancy had ended these encounters. She didn’t know the reprieve would create an ache in her that she had needed him to fill. 

“Ben,” her voice was careful. He bit down the flare of indignation that she still used that dead name. 

It was a secret allowance he made for her. If he must be something to her. He tried to answer as Snoke’s apprentice, not her once-lover. Not the father of her baby. Not everything he’d rather be, if he was weaker. 

“It should be somewhat of an honor to you, that you’re the only one alive still permitted to call me that. It is a special privilege that I don’t punish you for it.” 

He had taken a pause to collect his words. She needed none to see through them. 

“Only I can call you that.”

A special name, just for between them.

There was a smile pricking the edges of her mouth upwards. Even if it was smug. He would accept this is it made her happy. Small victories.

He wasn’t concerned about his fear for her health, for the baby’s health. He was concerned for his incredible excitement that he couldn’t even admit to himself he felt. 

Her hand absently cupped a breast, as if sensing a chill, and the sensation seemed to occur to her then too. Wet through her pajamas. Her milk had come. 

The sensation filled her with panic, one he felt acutely as she couldn’t maintain the effort of closing off her mind. He crouched at the foot of her small bed. 

“I didn’t want you…” he cleared his throat, realizing he pulled her hands away from covering her chest. She struggled against the exposure, pulling against his grip, elbows bearing towards the center of her chest to shield the wet spots from his sight. Her face was pure hatred. He tightened his grip, frustrated, and tensed against her until she looked in his eyes. 

“I didn’t want you to wake up to this alone. I didn’t want you to be scared when you had to face it. I want…”

He knew a lot of things he didn’t want, but what did he want?

He swallowed. 

“To clean you up properly.”

He seemed to light up at the insinuation from his own mind. A smirk graced his lips. 

Carefully, he pulled her wrists down to her sides to prevent her from clamping her arms around her tits. The smell, the taste. He knew why it woke him, her puddling mess, the feeling she would be so afraid at what was happening to her when she awoke to be dripping from her breasts. 

He was there to clean her up. Lick the milk off her rosy little nipples he missed so badly. He had to suck her dry. To take care of her. 

Greedily, he pulled at her neckline. She slapped a hand onto his shoulder, but didn’t push, and didn’t try to get away. She just squeezed a moment, looking intensely at him, unreadably intensely, and fidgeted in bed. He leaned down and blew across the wet spots. The cold air against the fabric clinging to her wet nipples had her trembling. 

“Snoke is elsewhere,” he told her evenly, vaguely, “He will not be back for another three days. If you let me...suck on your nipples, you can sleep in my bed until he returns.”

He longed to describe them:  _ sweet, little, pink, soft. _ Until she was soaking the leg he pressed between her thighs. But it was giving too much away to admit that he noticed. Or what he liked. 

It was too risky to tell her she would be feeding him.

Her feelings about this are unreadable. 

“Snoke will have you flogged in public for this.”

He shrugged, continuing to stroke her. “I’ll deal with him.”

A promise that had serious consequences for him. The First Order couldn’t do much to her, other than bore her, while she was pregnant. He on the other hand, would suffer dearly for violating these orders. And yet, looking at the swells of her growing breasts, he didn’t care. 

Rey gripped the comforter, still not touching him like he had imagined the maternal figure he’d morphed her into since he’d last seen her. Where was her  _ glow? _ She just looked like Rey, with some extra fat on her body. 

But she did nod, and he straddled her lap, hunching down to meet her tits with his face. 

_ “You want to sleep beside me.” _

His voice is a seductive purr; whispered to a steel wall. 

“Maybe it’s merely to get close enough to kill you for doing this to me,” she said with a cool tone, her hand cupping his bare neck at the nape. Squeezing like a tooka cat lifting its kitten by the scruff. Then a little harder. To remind him he was just a man.

His eyes were haunted when they looked up; his craving written all over his face. She wounded him still, with her hatred, but she was hardly in a position to liberate him from her loathing. 

He bargained with Snoke. He bargained with her. He bargained with himself. 

He pulled the fabric aside and examined the swollen flesh underneath. Her nipples were darker, a little bigger than he remembered. Pebbled droplets quivered as her breast swung free from its wrappings. Technically, it was colostrum. He’d read about that. The protein-heavy fluid that preceded her milk, that would give way to the milk in the first hours of the baby’s life, through careful nursing. Her body fascinated him beyond the point of lust now. It was life itself made flesh. In some reality, he could be a doting, waiting father with this information. He took his preparation seriously. He’d studied carefully what her body needed, what it was doing, how to properly care for it. Pretended he administered hot compresses for her back pain, sunk her swollen feet into a tub of soapy water and rubbed the slippery arches until she moaned with satisfaction, slaked the advanced stages of her hormonal urges. It was his fantasy, his favorite toy, to care for his pregnant mate. He hoarded his knowledge as some Sith apprentices did their lust, it was secret like that, unable to act on it as he had any desires for the last decade of his life. Violence was an impulse to him, not a desire. The things he longed to act on, harder for him to reach the minute the question of control could form in his mind.

He purred as he began to suck. She felt his cock twitch at her thigh, as insistently nudging as his nose to her breast. 

“Rey,” the tone was a slight whine, but his teeth cracked a smug smile and the tone of pleading was ironic. He already had what he wanted, the illusion of begging flared shame and humiliation through her bloodstream. Her name. An unearned intimacy. Her legs flailed lamely under him, “ _ Rey _ , you have such sweet milk.”

_ “No-” _ she whispered, her voice breaking, but he hummed, sliding his legs behind him, lying between her legs carefully. He stayed up on his elbows to keep the weight of himself off her belly. Instead of replying, he pulled his lips off her nipple and instead flat-tongue-lapped at it. Flicked it with his tongue. Pointedly. Maybe mockingly. 

But just to get her attention.

She shivered, staring off to the side, not even looking at him as he proceeded. Her hips bucked into him a few times, brushing his torso, seeking friction. Her strong thighs tightened and flexed around him. He was so aroused that he felt dizzy. 

She was close too, he could feel it. In his deliberate attempts to make this a caress, but more so when his desire one out and he sucked from her vulgarly. Craving. She seemed to prefer the honesty in his greed for everything her body could provide. 

He sighed as he returned to sucking, filling his mouth with her. The noises, sloppy pops against her skin, had her thighs flushing with heat and her cheeks flushing with shame.

It was too hard to say out loud. He wanted to drink her milk. That was it. It was a simple as that, to be her greedy nursling. He had longed for her for all this time and the milk was what broke him, the milk for his baby, he was selfish enough that he would have that milk feed him before it fed his baby. 

He angled his hips carefully against hers. His body was long enough to bend his head to her breast and leverage himself on his knees to rub against her. She thrashed when his erection brushed her core. Both of them remembered what had happened between them there. Their groins mashed together like magnets, both needing in a way that outweighed logical thought.

She felt the more fervent pull of his sucking through her nipple, and with the hardness rubbed back and forth against her swollen clit, she did spend against him from mere rubbing. He felt the wetness and his made his lips twitch with a smile. Just from some rubbing and a mouth on her breast. Pregnancy had made her easier in some ways.

He was glad to hold back from cumming in his pants, his seed belonged inside her, and there was no other place for it in his mind.

He kept sucking, switching breasts from the one he had emptied.

“Why?” she whispered dryly.

He tried to balm his voice with honey and pleasure. “Because I wanted to drink you.”

“No,” her voice sounded dry as ash, cracking. “Why did you let him take me away from you?”

He sat up off of her, as though his weight had caused the offense, not the months of solitude. 

The issue of  _ let _ was the wrong word; he didn’t have a choice. 

But this was Rey. She could have chosen to die trying. 

“To keep you safe,” he tried to explain, but she wet her lips as though speaking through a clear, prepared mouth would do something about the tears in her eyes. 

“I fought,” she growled, her hands tight in his hair. It was only now he noticed she was clinging to him. “So hard they had to sedate me when they took you away. I fought  _ for you.” _

“I’m...sorry.”

He didn’t know what else there was to say. Her fury was burning him again, making his stomach coil. He could not live comfortably with this. He could not swallow his pride and follow his orders and allow so much damage to be done to her. 

Her agony went unspoken after that; for he felt the kick against his arm. 

He stared at the belly underneath him. Lost his breath. 

Rey kept very still when his hands hovered over her bump, lowering reverently like one does to heat their palms over a fire. The fluttering did not cease when his skin touched hers. It was kicking inside her, and he felt the baby  _ move- _

Ben’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. 

She watched him very carefully, his realization.

“Oh,” he leaned forward, an arc over her, not touching or crushing. He kissed her mouth. She whimpered at the taste of her milk on his tongue. 

He shook his head, his once wet mouth now dry and ashy. “I should never have- _ oh.” _

Another kick against the center of his palm. His feelings for her were enough to drown him in excess, but this was something else entirely, this baby, he felt from inside her-

For the first time he felt he truly understood her.

It was terrifying. 

His hands covered her belly for a short, unmoving time. Neither of them were breathing as he felt it. Then a flurry of motion:

“Don’t cry,” he pleaded, dipping to lick a trail of milk from the curve of her breast that had leaked out, but also stroking the hair out of her face and pulling her hips down the mattress to settle her so there was less pressure on her lower back and pushing cool and soft thoughts into her mind and _taking care._ Though he was as close to tears as she was. “Tell me, how are you? Are you alright?”

“It’s the damned hormones,” she snapped, batting cruelly at her own face and its betrayal of her fears. 

“Tell me.”

She had so little faith in him, but it was faith in something inside of a cell, so she spoke;

“I could manage before, being here, before this. Now I’m always emotional. Frustrated. Everything feels at the highest setting. Sadness. Anger. Not sleeping.”

The word flickered in her mind, and he ripped it out; “Arousal.”

It might have seemed like a one-track mind, but it was pulsing in her thoughts, some kind of defiant roar inside her that she held that back, and he had read about that. 

Fantasized about helping. 

She was impassive, unreadable. “I said everything.”

He fixated on the thing he felt he could do for her. 

“And you’ve been alone, uncomforted. Lying awake at night”

He kissed the curve of her breast. Dots of milk had dripped onto her round belly. He sucked them into his mouth with a shudder. 

The baby had felt years off, when he hadn’t yet seen her like this. A nice idea. Not quite reality. But Rey was growing bigger, her breasts providing the milk that would feed the baby in a matter of a few months. Tasting it triggered something inside him. He needed his mate. To care for her. To deserve her. 

And he made her deal with all that for months on her own.

“May I…” he looked away from her, for once acknowledging his shame. She touched his flushed cheeks as if to see if the color was real. 

“Take off your gloves,” she said, but he wasn’t sure if that was a solitary request or a condition. 

He ripped one off sloppily, flinging it against the wall. Even her eyebrows raised at the his fervor. Maybe he thought if he did it very well she would agree. 

The second glove, as if to imply he would only be getting better step by step, he pulled free from his hand with his teeth tugging it off by the middle finger. There was a quiet sound of the stretch of taut leather, and he watched her carefully to see if she was affected. 

Not as affected as he had hoped, but he’d take the raise to her eyebrows as a means to keep going. 

He put his bare hand on her neck. She tried to sit up, but the weight at her belly was making her arms shake, and her tits were having free from her light tank top, so there wasn’t a lot of options to multi-task. She rolled forwards with him still somewhat over her legs, crouched above her, and shifted the neckline back up to cover herself.

But he wrapped his arms around her, shaking his head.

“Naked,” he murmured, glancing up at her as he huddled over her body. “Now.”

“I learned my lesson about having sex with you,” her lips were pursed and her eyes annoyed. He did not have the luxury to be bossy with her, in the precarious position they were in. He’d just feel like her jailer. 

There was an animalistic whine, like the sound after accidentally stepping on a paw. 

He knew, objectively, she had to regret everything. But it still stung, and had his hands on her go white with his grip.

“Then may I…” he wanted. He just wanted. “May I touch you?”

“Hmm,” there was a sigh, and she planted her face in his shoulder. It was maybe the most explicit affection she’d given him since they had sex. He tried not to fall apart at her sniffing his neck. “I think the smell of you...is setting off my hormones.”

She lay back with an unamused expression. “Your presence makes them worse. Maybe you  _ should _ stay away.”

“Your body senses the father,” he could barely hold back both his confidence and his trembling at the realization. “The baby, it knows me. Your womb, it wants me.”

“Enough,” she growled at him, kissing him deliberately to shut him up. He would take it. His tongue slithered into her mouth.

She lay back, her perfectly round thighs opening for him to slip a hand between them. He did, coaxing, noticing she was very wet. 

“Did you like feeding me?”

She slapped his shoulder, harder. “It does nothing for my arousal when you talk.”

He snickered, tonguing the breast he quickly exposed. Milk whitened his tongue.  _ “Liar.” _

“I want you to shut up,” she closed her eyes, whimpering as his fingers filled her.

“Is your hand enough, then? Should I  _ leave you-” _

The threat was too cruel, and he regretted it immediately when she began to sob.

“Rey. Wait. No. I’m sorry,” he tried to kiss her again. She covered her face with her arms.

“I hate how I’m feeling. I hate it.”

But she wasn’t opening up to him, it just felt like giving up. Curled in a ball in bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he stroked her hair, getting off of her to lie by her side. Pulling her to rest her head on his chest. “Rey. Please. I didn’t want it to happen this way. When I thought I’d give anything to have you-I want to say this is worth it. But if you’re in pain, maybe I’m wrong.”

_ “Is this really the first time you’re thinking that,” _ she growled against his neck, but her arms came around him. 

“Are you...do you want us to...?”

He was not sure he had the stomach for this conversation. But he knew this was not planned, and as terrible as it was for him, it must be so much worse for her to feel trapped by this. Ending a pregnancy would actually be easier than escaping Base. Then she might have time to heal while he tried to come up with a desperate plan.

“I love...what we made,” her eyes fall shut. “I can’t. Not anymore.”

“What can I do?”

“Finish what you started,” she looked sheepish. “I need it. Please don’t speak. You’ll make it all worse.”

He tried to argue to logic that this was all for her privilege to  _ sleep in his bed _ for three nights. 

“May I speak to the baby?”

She went still for a second.  _ “Ben.” _

“I want to...I want to talk to my baby. Our baby,” he corrected himself, somewhat in a trance. His fingers filled her before she could refuse. Her eyes fluttered shut, a moan tossing out of her lips. 

He bent close to her stomach.

“Hello,” and she snickered at the formality. Turning into him and hiding her face, allowing him some privacy with her pregnant belly. “I hope you’re comfortable in there.”

He leaned in, like he needed to be closer for the lump for it to hear and understand him. Like it spoke  _ poor _ basic; understood the language at all, which was laughable. 

“And happy, I suppose. And feeling safe.”

_ “Unlike Mama…” _

He bit her shoulder, and she actually laughed.

“Does it understand?”

She shrugged. “I feel things, sometimes. From the baby.”

He was awed by that, almost too afraid to touch her. What a wondrous suggestion. Using the Force to understand this new life.

His fingers inside her rewarded her, her neck arched back with pleasure. 

“Does Mama take good care of you?”

“Mama doesn’t have a choice,” she groaned at him. He ignored her, talking to the baby in a way that implied she wasn’t even there to him. The insult did wonders for her indignant responsiveness. All hot and bothered around his hand. 

“Your Mama hasn’t let me near you, or her. I wanted to be. So close.”

_ “Don’t blame me for that.” _

This did come from a place of pain. He accepted that. If it were to her, they'd be on some foreign planet under a rock, hiding out and living like heathens. 

He kissed her, stroking her clit with her wetness, rubbing his chest to hers as her milk dotted his sleeping garment, wetting it with her scent. The pleasure he would feel inhaling it later. 

He latched his lips to her breast once more, groaning as he suckled, and that broke her. Not him caring for her. Caring for him. 

She climaxed beautifully around his fingers, moaning insatiably. If he thought she was shameless before, these urges were violent when coupled with her hormones.

He loved her body so much like this. Ripe from his seed. Craving the father of her child. Harder to fight the chemistry between them. Her head flopped on his chest, her body sated and calm. Milk ran down one exposed breast, he trailed the flow with his tongue. 

“You don’t mind sharing with me, do you?” he teased her belly. 

He wished he could feel what she felt, because there was a beat where she seemed to be listening and gave a vague smile from that, not him.

“I’ve been...busy,” he tried, and she snorted, and there was a lulling pulse of the Force. 

Not his extension of it. But extending back. Not her obvious usage of it. 

Not one he recognized, but familiar to him as her face. Or his own. 

“It’s-”

It had to be, if it was their child. But his mouth was dry. He had just never pictured this…

The baby was speaking to him, not through words, but emotions pulled straight from the Force that connected them.

He grabbed hold of her arms, straddling her, hands on her belly when he settled himself close as possible. She yelped defensively. 

“Be careful, Ben,” she pressed up desperately on his shoulders from underneath. “Be careful of them.”

He used the force, instead of his own arms, to instantly shove himself away from her. She felt nothing, but like a shot his back was colliding with the opposite wall. Her throat choked out a cry of panic, and he stared at her, numb.

“What did you say?”

Her voice was furious and firm, covering her belly as though he could see through it. It’s the same kind of deluge of information she gave him about the BB unit when they first met: 

“It is a gender-neutral term, I just want to be surprised and I used the appropriate-”

He shook his head. He’d take the logic, but he felt her speaking, felt the lie in her voice and the panic in her eyes made it clear that she had let something slip. Not just attempting to correct his misunderstanding. 

“Babies?” he murmured, his tongue thick. 

There was a tense nod; a single duck down of her chin and then back up.

“Twins.”

She swallowed thickly, knowing she now wielded the knife:

“We’re having twins. Just like your grandparents.”

He had never felt so close to his grandfather. 

But these feelings, he didn’t want them. This terror. This helplessness. He didn’t want to feel the way he was feeling now even if it was, cracking at his edges, a connection to Darth Vader. 


	2. Chapter 2

“There are med droids. And scans. I saw them.”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t add any clarification. Reluctant to answer to him. Even when he stared at her like he needed every answer in the galaxy to what got him here.

He saw those ultrasounds. He didn’t know what to make of them at the time, just shapes, but they were real.

Even if he was the galaxy’s biggest idiot, and many mornings he woke up feeling that way, someone  _-after all the times he had frantically checked up on her-_ would have told him by now that there was more than one baby.

He licked his lips.

_“I saw them,”_ he repeated powerlessly.

“You did,” was her quiet answer. She stared at the sheets, hands loosening over her belly. Surrendering. “I’m the only one who knows. Well. _Knew.”_

“How?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. The first few appointments, I was so angry, I just...didn’t want anyone to see anything. And then I just...it was like I blocked one out from everyone. They knew about the first baby. But not the second.”

Her power was so great she was able to hide an entire second child in her belly under plain sight. No wonder she looked rounder, fuller, than he had anticipated.

“How did  _you_ know?”

Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips before she spoke: “I sensed them. It's still early enough that it's hard to tell. Not even Snoke knows. But I’m sure he will soon.” She shook her head. “Stupid of me, to think I could hide that for much longer.”

“Well, what would hiding do?” he paced the room, unsure how to go near her again. Self-consciously, she returned her breast to its wrap. “When you  _will_ give birth to two babies. Everyone will know then.”

“I wanted something to be mine. Just for a little while”

She squeezed the sheets tight in her fists. There was a ferocity there that couldn’t be broken from her. If only he had the right to kiss her again.

He knelt at the edge of the bed.

“I won’t tell Snoke.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yes you will.”

He tried hard to pull together some promise that it was  _important to him_  if it mattered to her. Not that he was very good at proving it.

“I won’t if you-”

_“You will.”_

Her eyes on him were unforgiving.

“You will try to keep this from him. But you’ll give in to him eventually. You always will.”

Her resistance made it easier.

Easier to accept that she was right. He was exactly as she saw him.

There was only a moment taken to swallow that bitter pill, eyes on hers, to show her that he could.

He then pulled her by the wrist from her bed.

“We have  _my side_ of the bargain to uphold,” he told her coolly, lifting her up in his arms as his tone was the thing that firmly, emotionally, dropped her.

Defeated, she slumped her head onto his shoulder.

“Shouldn’t your  _pet_ sleep at the foot of your bed? Or on the floor?”

“If I had control of this situation at all,” he lifted his foot to kick the button to open her cell door. Annoyed, he realized it needed a security clearance. With a grunt, he overrode it the easy way, cracking the control panel with his powers so it slid open with pathetic, haphazard momentum. “Do you think I’d just let you sit here, miserable? I’m doing whatever I can. It will take time until Snoke trusts you.”

It was hard to hide from her unimpressed stare when he was carrying her, with her face so close to his.

“I’m so sorry that you’re uncomfortable with your power over me.”

The hallway between her room and his was short. So short, he could feel her tensing up when she realized they had reached his rooms  _already._

That close, for so long, and he left her all alone because of some orders.

The poise with which she held herself erect, upright and cold, was both imperious and righteous. Some avenging queen preparing to send an army after a traitor.

Her chin was high as he walked her through his door. Even for the moment she squeezed her eyes tight as if to hold back how upset she was.

His were cast down.

Him, her servant, twisting with shame because yes, a distance of  _mere yards_ kept them apart and he hadn’t shown his face until he sensed her milk.

He set her down on his bed, annoyed at both himself and her absolutely valid disgust with him, before fetching a wet rag. All the exertion, the milk and anxiety and lust, had gotten her sweaty and disheveled. Stepping away, looking down at her ripe belly, was enough to almost black out his mind for a moment. Overwhelmed. Scared.

_Twins._

“My power over you could never break you. Neither could Snoke’s. I don’t do  _what I can do_ to you because everything I care about, you would have to give willingly.”

And he dabbed the damp cloth over her skin, peeling away her clothes. The exploration of her body was not as erotic as earlier in the evening. Her jaw was tight when she stripped those bedclothes away. He could tell her body was as strange to herself as it was to him tonight. Her shock at the flow of milk making this nightmare real to her.

Kylo Ren offered her a shirt to wear to sleep in, her nightclothes filthy and curdling with a musky smell. He offered her another towel to hold to her chest to help with the drips as she slept, collecting in the fabric, but maybe there was a pad of some kind that could administered to protect the mattress in the future.

Not that he minded if the smell lingered.

She didn’t have many words for him that night. Her body was rigid as he laid them both down. He kept her naked, she didn’t seem to both with fighting it. There was a kiss administered to the nape of her neck when she whimpered once in her sleep, but otherwise, the body spooned behind her knew his place: and knew that was a distant one.

They had three nights of this.

He didn’t let her get in bed right away, at first.

Not for the last two nights of the three. One was for rest.

And then those he took for himself.

After night one's heavy sleep, she had to earn it even after entering his chamber. Unwrapping herself, standing between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to nudge her nipple into his mouth.

The second night, she had just flopped down in bed, but him remaining seated on the edge of the mattress without moving unnerved her so much she crawled over to try and pull him down, but he wouldn’t come.

Wouldn’t let her have peace of mind until he was given his. Their minds were so chaotic and interlinked; she could try to sleep, but she knew what he wanted. With annoyance, she offered it up as though he was a crying baby, with the numb-minded tiredness of a new mother. 

Maybe it wasn’t about  _let._ Maybe he was just insistent about their nightly ritual. Bedclothes on, breast out, her milk filling his stomach, then sleep.

It was a great vantage point for him, the breasts at his lips, the undeterred access to her nipples, the view of her face, the occasional flurry of kicks he felt against his abdomen when her belly brushed him. He got to suck in a way that would make an empty breast seem obscene in his mouth, fluttering his tongue to stimulate drove her into such conflicted anger and arousal that she was ready for sleep, ready to be held by the time he'd had his fill.

How had he slept the nights before he had taken his milk? From the way he drank, she had no idea if he ever went a night in his life without it at all.

She didn’t try to hard to resist.

He hummed as he drank, suckling intently. Her hands carding through his hair. Gripping his knees with white fingers. Trying to ignore the head at her breast, moaning desperately when the milk filled his mouth. Sometimes she moved her hands over his throat as he drank. Feeling her taste coat him inside. The thick swallows as her nipple pulsed in his mouth.

He wouldn’t let her move past him until it was finished.

When he was done, which was only when she was dry, he crawled back up the bed, allowing her to climb in beside him.

With the purposeful, painfully so, potential of the second night, he tried to convince her. His lips were on her knee. They were lying in the bed, but not entwined yet. His hair was flung across her leg. She was propped up on pillows, eating a piece of fruit he’d brought for her to try. She’d never been to its native planet, wrinkled her nose incredulously at the mention of its name.  _Such things do not exist,_ she’d insisted, positive the word that crossed his lips was a joke. He had to watch her try it.

“I look forward for when you are formally my apprentice. We’ll travel for your training, I won’t keep you in a dull practice room. We can explore. We can do whatever we please. We can get started,” excitedly, he wet his lips, "when you're ready, to get started on those  _fascinating_  dreams you have about us."

She'd had a series of them all last night. Waking them up at all hours, growling at each other, adjusting, fidgeting. And then falling back to sleep without finding a resolution to these feelings.

She was not so easily seduced.

Again, her nose wrinkled, but as though he said something even more impossible.

“Snoke won’t let you.”

Such a dismissal hurt his pride, bruised it deeper than he could say.

“You are unfamiliar with the ways of the Sith,” he rested the nape of his neck over her leg, arching his throat provocatively. Mulling over their future. She carefully watched the chords of his neck move as he spoke. “When you are in training, you’ll learn. When I am powerful enough, I shall kill my master and then I will rule the galaxy.”

Rey snorted into a pit of many seeds, red flesh coating her lips.

“Seems impractical.”

“It is about power,” the look he gave her was not amused.

“By that logic, I would kill  _you_ when I got strong enough.”

“Well,” he sniffed, caught. “We’ll make our own way.”

She sighed. Her fingers wove into his hair.

_How strange. This was time we never got to_ just talk.

Her thoughts blistered him like a burn. Her consideration of the things they didn’t know before they sealed each other together with two new lives.

So he said nothing more of the subject, and let her eat her treat, and then turned off the lights.

Then the night was for tending to her.

She was too exhausted with herself to fend off his peeks into her mind. She just let it happen. He knew about her dirty dreams. He knew about her anxiety. He knew of cramps, of backaches, of sickness when the morning came.

He was good at not putting his hands on her to do anything until she permitted it. He’d asked, intently, about getting her a heating pad or rubbing her feet or offering to gently,  _gently_ coax the needy climax out from between her legs.

He gave her infinitely more foot rubs than orgasms.

None of those, really, since the first night.

She shrugged him and the offer off each time, even half-delusional with her lingering dreams of sex, her bare thighs clinging to a blanket that stretched the length of her body. She couldn’t hide her hips subtly moving the thing between her legs for much needed-friction. But he was not breaking.

He had to prove that there were some things-

-that he could keep  _something_ -

-sacred to him, important, and such utilitarian pleasure made his skin crawl. The faint influence of his master often coaxed him, Rey would like it eventually if she did not initially, telling from the call of her body. From the intimate knowledge he had of her mind.

But he restrained himself.

Even when he wanted to roll over, both of them frustrated to be woken up with her cunt shuddering like it was bearing down on a molten cock, to sleepily thrust his hand between her legs and growl _just use my fingers._

Establishing routine, and normal between them, was easy: like when she often woke up to find him nudging her top down  _-go back to sleep you’re just leaking-_ and slipping her full tit into his mouth, the only sound made as she drifted back to sleep being his contented moans.

It was just about needs.

Even as he struggled with desires.

Nursing from her was lovely.

He couldn’t control himself, as though his body needed that sustenance.

He ached for for it. A genuine hunger.

Her body was so fascinating to him. Her thighs growing wider. Breasts lush and ripe. Stomach taut like the domed roofs on Naboo.

Divine. Sacred. Lovely.

The only time he felt safe was her hands in his hair and his lips wrapped around her nipple.

Her body, her perfect body, was so responsive.

Their one-time, distracted, chaotic sex had once been acts reserved for the territory they stimulated. Her pelvis bearing down because her pussy was being fucked. Her chest flush against his hands because he touched her tits. Mouth open to receive a kiss there.

Even without sex, this act connected  _everything._

Her cunt would flutter when his lips touched her breast. Her mouth would fall open when his hands held her thighs apart to crawl over her. Everything manifested in an unexpected place, he adored her like this, so malleable to touch and so easy to pleasure in a nest of shivery nerves.

It fell out of him, so readily that it was the hottest of humiliation.

_“Hmm, Mama,”_ he murmured when his lips met the yielding curve. He was tired, it had been a hellish day of constantly trying to intercept anyone who knew about his visitor from finding out he really wasn’t  _allowed_ to let Rey sleep in his room.

He was deeply irritated that he had found something, in all his power, he wasn’t allowed to do.

When he came back to her, to nuzzle into her breast at the end of it, he had felt so sleepy and safe. Delirious with happiness.

Rey bucked from where he had placed her over his lap.

“Don’t,” she whispered frantically.  _“Don’t_ call me that.”

She tried to pull him away by the hair. It was a valiant effort, and ripped up a good deal of black strands from the roots. But he held himself to her chest.

“Not for me, for them,” his fingers plucked her free breast, causing her to try and wriggle away. She was heavy in his lap, unbalanced, so the effort could easily cause her to fall. “So they know that  _you’re_ Mama.”

A lazy excuse. As if that was truly his intention. He hadn’t spoken to the twins since he found out they were two.

Rey had to settle her hips to keep from slipping off his knee.

She shook her head firmly. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why try and pretend it’s not true to me,” he pressed her pelvis down on his lap, his cock rutting against her, “when I made you this way?”

This was a rougher offer than his previous. Most nights when she moaned them both awake he just stroked a hand up and down her outer thigh and told her they could do anything that  _she_ wanted.

She’d answer that she wanted to go back to sleep.

Now he was being more forceful in his approach, and she glared down at him.

“The  _All Powerful Kylo Ren_ wishes I stop resisting.”

No Ben. Not anymore.

She lifted off his lap, and with a soft grunt from the weight of her stomach, rolled onto her back. But not further onto her opposite side, turned away from him, trying to sleep. Not like usual. Instead like an artist’s model, with one comical difference protruding out from under her breasts, opening her hips up on offer. “What will he give me, I wonder, if I give in to him?”

This coyness staunched his desired like water over a flame. He fidgeted at her side, surprising even himself he did not take the slight invitation to pounce.

His tone was instead...disappointed, at her attempt to seduce him. Flat. Negotiating.

“You’re going to offer your body to me, for a price. I’d suggest you confirm that you’ll get it before you do something you’ll regret.”

She grimaced as she lifted onto her elbows. To talk this out as adults.

_Parents._

“I can’t live here, with the babies.  _We_ can’t live here.”

He was already shaking his head.

_“No.”_

Her hands slid down his chest. The contact was enough to make him cave inwards with a groan, trying to cradle it into his own body.

It distracted him enough for her lengthy attack;

_“Off-base._ We don’t deserve to die in your war. I don’t want to die in this war if I’m not even free to fight in it as I wish. To die on your side,” her throat chorded, tears pricking her eyes.

To her it would be the worst possible thing.

He tried to stifle his insulted response to her disgust.

“Whatever privileges you have to use. Get us out. People die when bases get blown up. Please, Ben. Keep us safe.”

“So if we were both in the Resistance,  _on base,_ you’d ask the same of me? To run?”

She lowered her chin, cowed.

“You know that this is different…”

He masked himself in smugness. It had gotten him this far.

“You still think the Resistance stands a chance against us…”

“I always will,” her face was fierce. “If there was even a  _possibility_ of losing this war, would you want your children on board when this ship goes down?”

He leaned back against the headboard, instead of draped over her, where he should currently be. Plotting a summer home in the mountains of some faraway planet to hide her away in and come home on weekends to fuck her silly and irreparably spoil his children.

He didn’t want to be absent from them, though, just a weekend parent, more associated with the ship he was attached to than the place he lived.

Not like he’d had.

The look he gave her was cold.

“Do you think the Solos you worshipped kept me in a safehouse all my life?”

Equal strength was in her returned gaze; if not stronger.

“Your mother and Uncle were hidden from their father until they were strong enough to fight.”

He snorted, tucking himself under the covers.

_“So they could kill him._ Do you intend to fuck me to allow your children to be the death of me?”

She scrambled into bed at his side. This behavior was above her, but from her breathing, this was what she would offer for the most important thing.

"Exactly how the Sith intended. You said so yourself."

"We're killing the past to build our own future," he cradled her hip absently, wanting to draw her close.

“This is about  _protecting_ them now.”

_“I will protect them. I will protect you. All of you.”_

His hands closed around her belly, holding his head to her. Her felt her shuddering, the fear rising out of her chest, and profoundly he felt a connection through the force. Not to her. Another.

He had not felt either of the babies since the first time.

They loved her.

They feared him.

“You have...given me successors,” he attempted, and Rey’s features recoiled. "Snoke will express his appreciation."

_“I wouldn’t say…”_

She wet her lips.

_“You don’t know that…”_

His breath stopped in his throat, like the oxygen vanished in the chamber of his windpipe.

“But you do.”

Rey’s face was firm. She did not flinch.

“If Snoke knew, he might cut them out.”

“There’s not a chance…” he took an even breath, “not a single chance that there’s a boy?”

Rey shook her head.

“They speak to me. If this was about a male heir even this scavenger could tell you that’s not how  _biology_ works, it’s not just how much rigor a bantha bull has when he’s being forced to breed.”

His hands tensed into fists. There had been a narrative of what Rey was that was always false to him. He bore it for access to her. She might be his mate, but she wasn’t a broodmare, or an animal. She was his, her cunt and her womb flowering for him, but she was still Rey. He could find it beautiful; even amongst the ugliness needed to crush the Resistance. 

He had never heard of himself in Snoke’s terms, what it meant that _he_ must be if to Snoke she was merely a-

She took a shaky breath.

_“And now Snoke will know.”_

“I’m going to protect you.”

“Ben,” she cupped his face in her hands, “how long will it take for you to understand that you can’t?”

He shook off her hands. Laid her down. Kissed the tears from her cheeks until her exhausted mind quieted.

That was the final night’s sleep. He was shocked that he could; considering the shame flaring deep within him at the babies’ feelings.

His _daughters’_ feelings.

Snoke might not mind, he kept telling himself. They'd be powerful. 

But something in him felt sick because every time he thought of them, he thought of Rey.

His dreams were pure turmoil, and paranoid, and terrified.

He had no control. Even this situation he was trying desperately to contain. To get his apprentice, his children, his partner.

_She’d betrayed him._

With another. Broken his heart and died quicker than he could forgive her.

He dreamed of finding out about her unfaithfulness. Seated on a plush couch, outfitted like the empress she was.

He was cruel, in his dream, coming to his wife  _-she was his wife?-_ in the dream, drawing her forward on the couch like he would caress her, like he was tired and home, and lifting the skirts over her knees and pleasuring her with his mouth until she went lax under him. The belly like its own planet above his head.

She was still divine, even in betrayal.

_“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he asked in the dream, and her soft, sad face twisted in confusion. “Only mine.”_

Rey's beautiful features fought to hide her betrayal to him. “I’m yours.”

He was wrong to trust her. And now his anger would do more damage than he could ever know.

“No, you lied to me. You’re with him.”

“Who?”

His hand wrapped around her lovely throat.

“Liar.”

“Kylo,  _who?”_

He felt his fist tight over her belly, his body bent over hers on the mattress. The other hand cupped to her throat.

The words shudder into his mind: 

_I'm afraid she died … it seems in your anger, you killed her._

She was clawing at his arm, blood under her nails, until he let go in a panic.

_Wasn’t he just on the floor, at her feet, with a landscape of passing ships stretching out into sunset?_

“How can I be with anyone else when I can’t even leave this room?” she growled, but she was trembling from how he was holding her. Roughly. Out of control.

He wasn’t dreaming anymore.

Rey looked confused, and angry, and ready to tear his throat out.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, trying to touch her soothingly. She smacked his hands away.

“What is wrong with you?” she spat, sliding away as quickly as she could. Her bare feet hit the floor, but she didn’t run.

She kept a safe distance though.

“I think,” he swallowed.

There was an angry red mark over her throat, from his fingers. Her eyes were also red, signaling he hadn't just _grabbed;_ he had deprived her of oxygen.

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that sad face.

“I dreamed I was...my grandfather, I think.”

Her face twisted. "I think you believe Snoke. You think I belong to you."

He didn't know how to answer that.

Rey gave a soft, exhausted sigh.

“And I’m scared.”

She was not weaker for admitting it. She wasn’t afraid of her emotions, and when you fear your own terror, you merely sink it deeper into yourself. A splinter that can never be removed.

Rey faced it head on.

He was the one who was worse for his denied fear he would never admit to.

“Do not make me fear you,” she said, her voice terse and angry, “he has used us against each other. You doubt me in the most impossible of ways. If we are going to find a way out, we cannot fear each other, and we cannot accept darkness without working to open ourselves to light.”

She walked her bare feet towards him, cupping his chin in her hand when she reached the bed. Her red eyes set heavy on his frightened face. 

“You are going to do this for your girls. Do you understand?”

His arms slid around her waist.

“I just wanted  _you,”_ he pressed his brow to her sternum, ignoring her breasts, which from the shock and anxiety, had begun to leak.

The smell of her milk still soothed him. Made him brave. 

“Well, that’s too late. That’s not good enough now. I want my girls to know their father," but as soft as that wish was, the way she gripped his hair to deliver her next statement was not; "But do not doubt my power to nurse them to hate any man unworthy to call himself that.”

“I love you. The  _three_ of you.”

She crawled into bed, the route she chose taking her past him, not brushing alongside him.

He could sense it. She would sleep. She was tired. Believed herself out of danger.

And when her eyes flashed to him, he was profoundly aware that she knew her strength.

And that of their children, more than he could ever understand as she sheltered them in her body.

“I would love to see you ever deserve to, Kylo Ren.”

She curled up under the covers.

He had no way to make it better that night.

And the next day was when Snoke would return.

He would it the best he could. Everything he had learned.

Everything that was now different.

He kissed her throat, and she didn't shiver. She didn't shrug him away.

Whispered in her ear what he wished he could do for her.

Rey squeezed his hand. 

Both of them quietly resigned to fight their way through this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will explain how Rey hid a whole twin. 
> 
> This note will explain how Rey hid a whole twin:
> 
> The Force. 
> 
> That's about as satisfying an answer as you're going to get so I'd start bracing yourself for disappointment now.
> 
> p.s. I know I have readers who are moms who are going to roast me for knowing what colostrum is but not knowing that breastfeeding is an utter nightmare (I have read many comments of lactation kink fics, I get it, please let me live I'm a 23 year old idiot). This is why I did pre-baby breastfeeding.


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